


Eh

by Get_below_my_line_of_vision



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Joly is a theatre kid, Love Confessions, M/M, Poor Bossuet...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:47:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24240790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Get_below_my_line_of_vision/pseuds/Get_below_my_line_of_vision
Summary: How Grantaire, a lazy cynic, met a leader of an activist group, Enjolras.And how Grantaire asked out Enjolras while arguing in the Musain. Shit.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Grantaire & Bossuet Laigle, Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta
Comments: 20
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

It had been years since anything interesting had occurred. Sure, there was Bossuet becoming his roommate, but there was not much apart from that. There wasn’t much to celebrate nor reminisce. Oddly enough Grantaire wanted to keep it that way. Call it lazy, he didn’t care.

As tradition, no one had entered Grantaire’s life romantically, and he was thankful for that. As cliché as it sounded he hated love. It would have been impossible for someone to love him back due to his ugly personality and even more hideous face. Soon he would find out he also had a dislikable political mind.

It was a boring afternoon. By then, everything had lost the taste of interest. Grantaire strolled around doing nothing. He wasn’t rich so working part-time meant he had to balance his budget by literally avoiding spending money. It was easy for him. Life didn’t intrigue him so he never went out. There were no midnight parties nor deliveries for food. He only spent the minimum and earns the minimum. It was at this point his roommate, Bossuet, felt pity.

Grantaire had said time and time again he was not happy, yet he was satisfied. Of course life didn’t sweep him off his feet, because there was nothing fascinating or wild in life. It was just a flat piece of… nothing.

This didn’t sit well with Bossuet and he encouraged Grantaire to go outside, have fun. Get in debt, like every other young person in the country- nay, the world. But Grantaire was stubborn as ever. Every time Bossuet asked Grantaire for anything that required effort, he was rejected. However… Bossuet remembered there was an iron-clad, infallible tactic which poked Grantaire’s weakness.

Bossuet sat down on the sofa, next to Grantaire doodling. “Hey, Les Amis are having a gather-up.”  
Grantaire didn’t lift his eyes off of his notepad. “You mean your political group? Went there once, didn’t like it. I don’t want to go.”  
Bossuet hid his smile. “We would really appreciate it if we had more members. Please, for me?”  
That activated something in Grantaire. He supposed it was the machine which held in all empathy. Now that his brain was flooding in this emotion, Grantaire had no choice but accept the offer.

In retrospect this decision was one of the greatest he made, not that he knew at that moment, nor that night, nor that week. It began something which was gradual. It, rather he, was Enjolras. That man created a cascade that Grantaire could not contain.

The activist group known as Les Amis de L’ABC, or just referred to as Les Amis, stood for everything Grantaire hated. By that, it meant Les Amis wanted something and they worked for it; completely the opposite of the stay-cooped-up-at-home Grantaire.  
However since he was with Bossuet, he let everything pass by without opening his mouth. By speaking he was going against his living code of ‘don’t do anything’. 

Following this rule he had been bowing down to for a couple of years and was proven to be getting more and more difficult, however. The longer he stayed in the room full of activists, the more he wanted to argue back on their Marxist comments.  
But his anger was more specifically directed at a blond man, he spoke the most, and so Grantaire narrowed down that he was the leader.  
When he visited Les Amis once before, he had never met the man, yet he seemed to have climbed the social ladder of the group. Ironic, since Les Amis fought for having no social levels. Thinking that was a humorous observation, he nonchalantly picked up a bottle and strolled to face Enjolras.

They surprisingly got on very well. Enjolras shouted, then Grantaire yelled. It was an equal conversation. Especially when Bossuet remarked later on that he had never heard someone speak as much as Enjolras did in an argument. This was definitely a victory for Grantaire… Although Enjolras also thought the moment was a victory. So at least the two had the same level of misreading the situation as the other. Again, they got on very well because of their similarities. The two opposites of the spectrum circled around and were very close to one another without knowing.

Since the day went so well, Grantaire was enthusiastic about joining Les Amis despite Bossuet telling him that it wasn’t a good idea. “You shouted at him. Continuously.” Bossuet scrunched his face. “Actually I’m surprised you didn’t shout at everyone in the room.”  
“You invited me,” Grantaire pointed out, “And I want to stay.”  
“So you can make fun of everyone.”  
“Yes.”  
Bossuet leaned back. “‘Taire, you can’t just-”  
To contrast, Grantaire leaned in, “Think of it like this, Lesgle. The world needs opposites. The sun has the moon. The mountains have the sea. The sky has the ground. I have…” Grantaire waved his hands around, mentally panicking since he really thought about saying ‘Enjolras’, instead he corrected himself, “Les Amis.”  
Bossuet groaned. “Fine.”  
Grantaire chuckled as he punched the air in victory. “I get to sit around and see people become like me. Tired of life. Then we’ll have an entire generation of guys- and gals- just sitting around doing nothing. It’ll be great. No more fights, nor more protests, I shall win the war just by talking out of my ass!”  
Grantaire looked around and noticed Bossuet had gone. Normally this situation would have been perceived as awkward but Grantaire really felt alive and giddish at the moment so he didn’t really view the scene as a sane man would have.

This soon developed into a pattern so much so that Les Amis would try to rush through their important plans before Grantiare entered the room and unleashed chaos by having exactly the opposite viewpoints as everyone else. Strangely enough, the only one who didn’t mind this was Enjolras.  
As Grantaire showed he would not be a guest, but a permanent member, Enjolras made sure to wait for the cynic to appear before starting their meeting. And Grantaire sure noticed this.

Others wondered why Enjolras would do such a thing, believing Grantaire’s stay as purgatory (not that they minded him outside of the meetings as Grantaire was very similar to them when he was not talking about politics). But Enjolras ignored the subtle looks and whispers as he quietly waited for Grantare to come. That was something Grantaire couldn’t help but admire about him. Enjolras didn’t care what people thought about him. He was strong and didn’t feel he was being ganged up on. At any sight of people disagreeing with him, he would stand tall as if he was part of an army and speak poetically about justice and the future of this country. And dammit Grantaire really admired that side of him.

On one rainy day, Grantaire was late and even argued with himself if he should really exert so much energy in trying to arrive at the Musain. It was about half way through in the meeting… They must have already had so much to discuss and no one to hold Enjolras back.

Enjolras… Grantaire thought. He was the man who couldn’t be stopped- a man who believed in the ideal. Grantaire breathed in sharply. Without him, he would fly too close to the sun. Les Amis would be washed away by his voice and act on his every word. Believing this to be dangerous he ran to the Musain.  
Inside, there were low mutterings- completely different from the norm. In the back of the room, there was Enjolras, his fist on his cheek, watching him while he was sitting. It was rare for Enjolras to not be standing in the middle of the room.

As Grantaire walked closer, he could see his blue eyes glow. At that point he assumed it was hatred, although he could not find out why. He was not a likable addition to the group- why should Enjolras be mad he was late?

One member said “Finally” and was nudged for doing so. Grantaire turned to see the man but was distracted once more by the scraping of the chair leg to the wooden floor as Enjolras stood. His face transformed to soften up, but it was still his professional face, as he clapped his hands and began talking about the issues at hand.  
For a moment Grantaire believed he was dreaming his own entrance. Had Les Amis not talked until he entered the room? He shivered thinking he was a main character of a story, or Truman, and that all of these people around him only began to function when Grantaire could perceive them.  
To remind himself, he walked to a location where he could see Enjolras’ face. And yes there was a red mark on his cheek- the cheek he was leaning on when he first saw him. That meant he must have waited for almost two hours. But that was impossible.

Other than the odd beginning, the rest of the day was normal and nothing changed. Grantaire was yelling every time Enjolras said something, and everything returned back to its pattern. However since the meeting faced a huge delay, many of Les Amis had to head out before its end. This caused for a rather empty room when Grantaire and Enjolras were in a heated debate. Enjolras stepped close to him to intimidate the cynic so he would stumble on his words. But this type of behaviour was so usual to him, that Grantaire reflected his actions and stepped closer to him, and as a result, the two were very close and were practically trying to strangle each other with words.

For those who were in the room with them, tried to look away as if they were watching animals claw at each other in a nature documentary. This awkwardness resulted in having only two voices present in the Musain.  
Grantaire became more conscious of his voice but didn’t risk it in case it could be mistook as a sign of weakness from Enjolras. As of the latter, he was used to his voice capturing the attention of everyone so he was unfazed by this change.

Heat and tension rose and Grantaire bursted out “How can you think there could be any change? People aren’t going to get off their asses! You’re just the exception!”  
“There needs to be inspiration! A sign and people will follow!” Enjolras argued back. Pretty standard, and repetitive, points. They have gone through the same thing before. When a person usually acted like this, Grantaire would walk out; physically leaving the situation.. With the exception of Enjolras. He didn’t know why, but he never grew tired of his shouting.

Since it was pretty standard to fight him, his mouth ran off without his brain being engaged. Instead, he thought about why he enjoyed Enjolras paying attention to him. It wasn’t like when Bossuet took notice of him. It was different. Then Grantaire came to a conclusion everyone knew and had. Even more shocking than his slowness in picking up his own feelings, he was quick to react to his revelation. Without a hesitation, in the heat of the argument, he shouted, “Do you want to go on a date with me?”  
“I’ll think about it!” Enjolras shouted back, without missing a beat.

From there their argument died out. Embarrassed, Grantaire looked around and saw some of Les Amis with their dropped jaw and Bossuet cackling in the corner.  
There was one thing he had to do. Keep arguing as if this whole thing wasn’t as weird as it actually was.

Mind blowingly it worked. It worked so well that Grantaire wasn’t quite sure if Enjolras remembered the whole asking out on a date thing by the end of the day. It seemed as if Les Amis also forgot about it.

Apart from Bossuet. But that was expected. He lived with him after all. So grantaire braced the consequence for acting on a whim the next day.  
“What was that about?” He couldn’t stop smiling, still in shock from what happened.  
Grantaire shrugged, “I don’t know. I just liked him, you know? So I just went for it.”  
“Wait, when did you figure out you liked him.”  
“Just then.”  
“‘Taire! That’s not how normal people act!”  
“Yes it is! That’s why Enjolras was quick to reply! When someone likes someone, they act on it. Then if you get rejected, it’s not like your whole heart gets crushed.”  
Bossuet stared at him for a second, his eye twitching, until he buried his head in his hands. “Are you even human?”  
The answer really seemed like a ‘no’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It ends abruptly here, sorry (It's because originally I didn't want to continue this and deleted half my draft of this chapter yeehaw)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First and the second date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I said I didn't wanna continue this because of my writing becoming bleugh. But, I came up with a plot, as thin as it is. So, here's me attempting to write well.

It had been three days since Grantaire asked out Enjolras out of nowhere and it really did seem like Enjolras had forgotten the whole thing ever took place. There was no reference to it nor did Enjolras look uncomfortable. 

In fact, everything was normal.  
Grantaire didn’t know how to take this. Sure, it probably wasn’t the wisest move to pull, especially in the heat of an argument, but he was certain what his feelings towards Enjolras were.  
Grantaire began to tap his forehead, creating his own headache. He’d rather have one than to think about what Enjolras views him as.

“In conclusion,” Enjolras was wrapping up his speech, “We should let the people rise. We must come together to fight the bigger enemy!”  
Nevermind what Grantaire was worrying about, it was time to list the hopelessness of his ideals. “You think people are just going to leave their jobs? They ain’t gonna do that. They need money. That’s why capitalism has survived so long, and that’s also the reason why capitalism is going to last forever.”  
Enjolras stared at him with his glowing eyes until he began to shout back. The battle had begun. Again.  
So, it was a normal day, Grantaire could tell that much.

Les Amis couldn’t work out what kind of relationship they had. At first they thought they had a hateful relationship since they kept fighting with another. It was like watching two big cats fight. Grantaire being the black jaguar due to his depressive beliefs which resembled the deep abyss of complete darkness, and Enjolras being a tiger, known for their determination, courageous, and marvellous looks. Basically the opposite of Grantaire. It was amazing- it was as if they were staring at their complete opposites.

So, it was decided then. They hate each other. It was obvious. From their conversation, it was clear what their relationship was. Then Enjolras would typically say something like “People will rise when the situation is dire! And I would really like to go out with you!” Then Les Amis were back to trying to decipher what their relationship was.

Grantaire’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t believe Enjolras was actually just thinking about it. He thought it was a kind gesture of disinterest. So, like a normal person he froze, trying to deduce what had just happened.  
“Grantaire?” Enjolras gently shook the man.  
“Call him ‘R’.” Bossuet advised.  
“R?” Enjolras looked deep into Grantaire’s eyes.  
This made Grantaire turn into a tomato. He had never heard Enjolras call him ‘R’ before. So far, only Bossuet had called him that- and he got a pass because they were close friends. Also when Enjolras said it, it didn’t feel like a joke name, it sounded like a cute nickname. Anything that came out of the man’s mouth (apart from politics of course) was adorable to him. Damnit, Bossuet.

Somehow, Grantaire let out a sound of a steam out of a kettle and quickly said, “Yes.”  
It was an awkward night for the both of them.

For their first date, Grantaire was fortunate to decide where to go and what to do. It seemed Enjolras never had a date since he texted ‘what should I wear?!’ and ‘do I need to bring you a present?!’ the day before the actual date. There was some confidence in Grantaire that he knew more than him for the first time.

For the date itself, it was in a cinema. Bossuet begged Grantaire not to confine himself in a room where they can’t talk to one another, but that was the ideal date. Or so he thought. It made sense; they always fought, and this was whenever they opened their mouths. Watching a movie would hush the two.

But at the end of the day all it caused was awkward moments. It felt like he was sitting next to Enjolras for hours despite the film having started ten minutes ago.  
Turned out, Grantaire wasn’t the type of person who would keep quiet in movies. Especially when there were many holes.

Quietly, Grantaire leaned in and whispered “All they had to do was just speak their minds, and all the tension would dissipate.”  
This activated something in Enjolras which made him burst in lively conversation until someone had to hush him. Muttering an apology, he continued in a low voice about the problems of the movie.

That was when Grantaire realised why he liked Enjolras. Unfortunately it was the same reason he irritated him. But hey, that spark in him? It was so beautiful. Grantaire even forgot what the movie was about.

The next meeting that followed, all attention was on Grantaire instead of Enjolras. Blushing hard, he didn’t really know how to react. There was a bombard of questions which got tangled on its way to his ears, although he could’ve heard someone ask how he was going to share a relationship with him and Patria, whatever that meant.

With one look from the leader, all voices faded away. Still, Grantaire was amazed in the amount of power the man held. Then he felt as if it wasn't fair. If he was truly a Marxist, he would let everyone speak. Full on equality. So, in response to nothing but a look, he began to argue. In one way or the other they always found a reason to argue.

In the topic of Marxism, deep into discussion, Grantaire pointed out “I don’t think you understand the conditions workers live in outside of factories. They have tragic life circumstances which pushes them to work for low-paying jobs.”  
Rarely none of Les Amis interjected when the two were in a heated debate, but Marius’ head was not in the game that day and blurted out, “How would he? He isn’t exactly poor.”  
Grantaire paused. Then swivelled around. “I’m sorry, what?”  
Marius looked around to see everyone was staring at him. “R, Enjolras is almost as rich as me.”  
This time, Grantaire repeated but with a wide smile, “I’m sorry, what?” He hopped to face Enjolras again, who had a furious face which frightened Marius so much he had to hide behind his girlfriend, but Grantaire ignored the facial expression- it was directed at him everyday, he got used to it, “Enjy, you’re going on a date with me, again.”

Naturally, there was an existing link between wealth and the world famous sport, golf. This was the time for Grantaire to make fun of Enjolras. Oh, after arguing for what felt like weeks, it was a joyous time to be able to just laugh and tease at the blond man.

Since he hated actual golf, he settled on an inside mini-golf course. He went to the highest starred rating for maximum bonding time with him.

Surprisingly Enjolras showed up. That was a great sign- it meant he wanted to still spend time with him.

When they entered, they didn’t expect fluorescent colours. The first room they went to had mini-statues of dinosaurs with fluorescent paintings. Confused, Grantaire looked at Enjolras. For some inexplicable reason, he shined too; he never looked so beautiful. Heavily blushing now, Grantaire spoke in a posh accent and encouraged a game of mini-golf. He hoped Enjolras wouldn’t be able to hear how loud his heart was pounding like he did.

Everything went by like a blur. He couldn’t remember who won, or even if he played at all since he was so captivated by Enjolras glowing (this had nothing to do with the fluorescent lights, this was just Grantaire being Grantaire; Enjolras definitely did not have fluorescent hair dye).

Just because the two argue like there was no tomorrow didn’t mean they disliked one another. In fact, it seemed it was because they had a crush on one another. Enjolras and Grantaire truly did live in an upside world.  
The verbal insults evolved into random touches of the arm or brush against the hand, or moving hair out of the other’s eyes while they were shouting at them.

Bossuet considered going completely sober in case he was hallucinating this whole odd behaviour. Confused, he pinched himself. No, this was real life: apparently the world where one could playfully nudge the other while trying to bite each other’s heads off while arguing.

It was quite amazing that when Grantaire was at home, he was silent and lazy as usual. It was as if he had a different code that only was activated when a certain blond guy was near. Bossuet just observed his roommate who was doodling on his notepad.  
Musichetta sat on Bossuet’s lap, staring at Grantaire too. At this point, everyone was confused about their relationship. The two just had the front seat view.

Finding the staring to be a little uncomfortable, he tried to divert their attention by asking, “Does Musichetta live here now?”  
“Why? Am I bothering you, R?”  
“Don’t call me ‘R’. Only Bossuet can say that.”  
“And Enjolras.” Bossuet laughed.  
“Shut up.” Grantaire said, unable to wipe away his smile.  
Musichetta giggled as she hugged Bossuet. “As long as I’m not bothering you.”  
“No. I’m not bothered. I just want some time alone.” Grantaire flashed a smile.  
“Ooh,” Bossuet cocked his head, “About that…”  
Grantaire dropped his notebook on his lap and gave his full attention.  
“We want to get a boyfriend!” Musichetta burst in excitement, hugging Bossuet once more.  
Grantaire’s facial expression dropped. This was his worst nightmare: there were going to be more people in his residence. More people he had to talk to. He groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this was going to be a jealous Grantaire fic. Then I remembered I never feel jealous, so I wouldn't know what to write (usually I just straight out give up). So, here's Grantaire hopelessly being in love instead :)


	3. Special: Bossuet's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Origin story of Bossuet's baldness xd

How did normal people flirt? Well, there was the long eye contact, lip biting, laughing at everything the other was saying, no matter how unfunny it was. Then there was Enjolras’ and Grantaire’s weird pattern of nudging each other, taking the idea of skinship a little too far. Even their close proximity was rubbing noses against each other as they argued which politics was the most ideal and realistic. They were cats. They were big cats clawing at each other. There was no harm in pushing each other gently as they fought, but this gradually became harder and harder. This, naturally, worried Bossuet, feeling as the two were going to end up being in a dysfunctional relationship. But since no one was actually being hurt, Bossuet was left to pull out his own hair, slowly becoming bald, from the stress his best friend was oozing. 

Don’t worry, there was more stress to be burdened on Bossuet. Recently, Musichetta and Bossuet decided to have a ployamourous relationship after they both admitted they had feelings for another man just to discover they were talking about the same person. Fortunately, Joly, the aforementioned man, had a crush on the two of them as well, so they pretty much hit Jackpot.  
However, Joly was a theatre kid. And a theatre kid meant he was performing a play. Why would this be bad news? Bossuet was sick of them. Musichetta? She didn’t mind them. She had watched only one play, and it was a musical called ‘Cats’. Up to this day she swore it was all just a fever dream which coincidentally matched a lot of the plot points of the musical, if there was a plot at all. But she still had a place in her heart for theatre. Mainly because Cats was so wacky, it allowed her to form new friends by just talking about it.  
However for Bossuet, he had been dragged by Grantaire to see amateur plays in the years they had known each other. Since he cared for money, the shows they watched were always low on quality. Sometimes, it had charm, but most of the time it was a slideshow of the introduction to regretting how they spent their hours in a very fragile, mortal life. As he groaned, a flashy idea descended upon Bossuet. He should invite Grantaire. Besides, if Grantaire liked Joly, then it would be a dream come true. His best friend and his boyfriend. Bossuet couldn’t be happier at the thought of it.

Of course his cheerful exterior was Grantaire’s weak point and he begrudgingly agreed to attend.  
There was also a new discovery founded by Grantaire. Pontmercy blurted out Enjolras was rich. And as the law of nature went, rich people had a link with theatres. So, he took his boyfriend out with him to the show.

When they arrived, they all had their individual facial expressions; they glowed their unique personality, which made them look like they were four very different people squashed together for a photo.  
Grantaire gave the bored eyes, but that was him in almost every situation, even in some scenarios he enjoyed, for example theatre. Somehow he viewed showing interest as a sign of weakness. Unless Enjolras was shouting at him, in which interest in the topic of everything to him.  
Beside him, Enjolras gave the most neutral face as possible, attending without any bias apart from wanting to get closer to Grantaire- the non-loud version.  
Musichetta was smiling widely after being told by Joly it was completely different from Cats. Although she was very psyched beforehand in the idea of people in animal costumes singing.  
Finally, Bossuet’s neck was red from the subconscious scratching he made on his own neck out of the nervousness. That and his balding hair was enough proof that he cared about his friends a little too much.

It was a play about materialism and capitalism. Shit, Bossuet began to panic. Since Joly was a fairly new member in the group, he must have not been informed that Grantaire and Enjolras would turn everything they see into politics since that was what they were good at. By good for them, it meant revealing their true personality through arguments.  
Bossuet was dreading what was to come. Musichetta gently patted his back as a reassurance that the play would be over soon.

Woefully, Bossuet had set a dinner night after the performance so they were stuck with the tongue twisting guys trying to bite each other’s tongue, which seemed like both in the sense of romance and hatred. Their behaviour never ceased to amaze him. Watching them felt like watching a documentary in which he learnt more about their species, but instead of any animal, it was them. He couldn’t even describe them as humans; they were too different.

The dinner was booked because that was how he was able to reel in Grantaire, and that was how the latter reeled in Enjolras as well.

Joly, feeling responsible, suggested the two sit in opposites, not beside each other. His partners breathed through their teeth, showing how it was probably not a good idea for the two to be sat, being able to face each other. Miraculously the two took the hint and sat the furthest they could from each other. This wasn’t able to stop their arguing however. The only difference was that they were more passive aggressive towards each other.

Awkward, Joly apologised to his partners about not informing them what the play was going to be about. Apparently, a surprise wasn't always a good idea…  
Musichetta casually smiled as she reached for her bag and pulled out earplugs she brought in suspicion. Unfortunately Joly and Bossuet were unprepared. As Musichetta turned herself deaf, Bossuet sighed as he heard an avalanche of arguments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The relationship gets healthy in the next chapter so bear with me


	4. Chapter 4

Their relationship was not improving. They could separate their differences when they weren’t speaking in politics, but the problem was, it was the only language they spoke.  
Surrounded by insults constantly, the two began to nudge each other harder, insulting one another. Their tongues became their sharp weapons and they kept biting with their harsh words.  
It devolved badly one night in the Musain when they argued mercilessly, beginning to slap each other- it wasn’t serious at all at first since neither of them had ever been in a fight. They began to push each other until Grantaire grabbed both his arms and pushed forwards, causing Enjolras to fall and Grantaire to end up on top of him. Quickly, Grantaire sat up and continued slapping Enjolras’ attempts and attacking him.

Les Amis wasn't sure if this was an actual fight or a playful one. So far, they didn’t intervene in fear of the leader’s wrath, but Courfeyrac finally bravely stood up and rushed to Enjolras’ aid.  
However it wasn’t necessary as the two began to laugh as if a bubble had been burst in their chests and the happiness they had been imprisoned escaped. Without the need of any interjection, Grantaire fell beside him, giggling. The two laughed despite the fight they had just had.

It seemed only Grantaire and Enjolras could understand each other. The cynic rolled his head to see Enjolras, staring at the ceiling. For the first time, he saw his face in so much detail, their faces close. He loved every imperfection the man had- somehow making him a more ideal person by being able to see his flaws.  
Enjolras turned his head to see Grantaire, his laugh calming. Grantaire could see his incredible blue eyes. They were different now; they weren’t glowing like he thought when they first met. It was like staring into the vast sky above, the type of a sky where, despite hours of observation, there were new details found by every second. Watching those eyes made Grantaire feel peaceful.

They began to laugh once more, finding it funny how they diffused the situation in such an odd manner. Grantaire wished to promise that he would never ‘fight’ with him again. But before he could open his mouth, Enjolras spoke softly. “I love you too.”  
He had never thought about whether he loved the man, but upon hearing those words, Grantaire knew he loved him. He had loved him for who knew how long- he was just too deep in arguments to have thought about it.

That night Grantaire wasn’t with Bossuet. He was strolling down the street, listening to his watch tick. There was a perfect moment in the sky, when the stars illuminated. The dots in the sky then were brought to life at that fantastical second, telling their own stories. This was something he wanted to share. 

Naturally, this meant ‘kidnapping’ Enjolras. By ‘kidnapping’ he just knocked on his door and requested him for a walk. It was more dramatic in his head than it was in reality. Nonetheless this decision was seen as romantic by both of them, but clearly not to Combeferre, his roommate who answered the door and woke up Enjolras.

Even with his bed hair, Enjolras looked so beautiful, like one of the stars above. He believed deeply that Enjolras shone brighter than all of them. Of course, this was different from the light he emitted when he first got to know him. His light wasn’t sharp nor mysterious nor harsh; it was bright with warmth. The winds of the night had nothing on Grantaire now he was holding his hand.

“Why…” Grantaire breathed in, “Did you accept my…” He scrunched his face in embarrassment on the day he asked him out.  
Enjolras completely understood what he was referencing to, “Say ‘yes’ to dating you?”  
“Yeah…” He rubbed the back of his neck.  
They slowed down to a halt as Enjolras swung around to face him. He touched his cheek ever so elegantly, so different from before- this was a new beginning, “You see the stars up there?”  
Grantaire didn’t need to see the sky; he donated all his attention to Enjolras without any regret in his mind.  
He chuckled lightly, “I felt like one of the stars.”  
“No way.”  
“Oh yeah,” He nodded as he beamed, “People would look to me for guidance, just like they would to the stars. And just like them, I felt… alone. It’s weird, you’re constantly surrounded by people yet you feel isolation. The people who believed in me… I felt so far away from. Untouchable, almost.”  
“Almost.” He echoed.  
“Then I met you.”  
“With my great, innovative ideas.”  
“No, not that,” He chuckled gently, “I felt like you had to be in our meetings. And,” He laughed at himself, “I used to wait for you, every meeting, valuing your thoughts. I admired your sense of reality, keeping me in check. Not that you noticed.”  
Grantaire choked a laugh.  
“You… Grantaire, you brought me down.”  
“To earth.” He smiled widely.  
“To home.”  
“Poetic.”  
Enjolras leaned his forehead against his. “You never really said ‘I love you’.”  
Grantaire closed his eyes, unable to stop smiling, “Of course I love you.”

Now, when Grantaire and Enjolras fought, they did so without hitting each other (even though they did it half-heartedly in the first place). Although the need for touch was kept alive. So, whenever they would crave each other more, they would hold hands. However their voices didn’t change in pitch or tone, which made the two look like a glitch in reality. Thus, their behaviour never stopped being perceived as odd to Les Amis.

At random moments they would integrate date ideas in their arguments. So not much had changed from when they first knew each other. The main difference was that whenever they argued now, they always wore a wide smile, unable to wipe it off. 

This left Bossuet checking if he was in fact living in reality, and not some stimulation where body language had nothing to with verbal language.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Congrats on reaching the bottom of the page! Just for that, here's a kudos from me to you. 
> 
> Thanks for reading


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